Breakaway
by LysPotter
Summary: “I’m sorry. I’m going.” Thom and Alex don’t understand why Hermione’s leaving them. She doesn’t know how she can bear to stay. She needs to take a risk. Oneshot, inspired by Kelly Clarkson’s “Breakaway”. T for language and mentions of abuse.


**Breakaway**: "I'm sorry. I'm going." Thom and Alex don't understand why Hermione's leaving them. She doesn't know how she can bear to stay. She needs to take a risk. One-shot, to Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway".

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't sit for cats that despise me to make money. This is how you know I'm not JKR. Enjoy the story!!

BREAK

**August 28, 1997**

"Mya, why do you have to go?"

He's sitting on her bed like he always does. His feet still don't touch the floor. Alex is on his lap playing with a doll. She looks up from the trunk she's packing.

"You know why, Thom. I've explained it all before." She tickles his bare toes, making him giggle. He's running his fingers through Alex's soft hair, making her smile and reach up to touch her head.

"Aly and I need you," he begs.

"Mum and Dad love you two. You'll be fine without me. I have to help Harry. He needs me as much as you do. I'm sorry. I'm going." She folds a warm cloak and pats it into the trunk. Next she picks up a teddy bear. "Alex!" she teases gently, handing the two-and-a-half-year-old her stuffed animal. "No more leaving your toys in Mya's room, 'kay love? I'm going away. Take your toys to Thommy." She tickles her chin.

Alex chortles. Hermione caresses the little girl's cheek. "Thom," she says as her hand lands on his shoulder. "Thom, will you do a big job for me?"

His eyes shine. "Anything, Mya," he says eagerly.

She stops patting her packed clothes with her free hand, lifting it to rest on the bed. "Promise me you'll take care of Alex while I'm not here."

"But Mya, I do that every time you to school."

"Well, now I'm taking a risk. I want to you to _always_ take care of her. Make sure she gets a story read to her before bedtime, and always tell her how much you and I love her."

Thom smiles sadly. "Yes, Mya."

She pats his knee and starts packing her books, worn but dearly loved.

She grew up in this house. She wore her first pair of shoes here, broke her first plate here, sang her first song here. She read her first book here. She did her first magic here.

She hurt in this house. She cried here. She bled here—right there, on the floor, where the floorboards are bleached white by floor cleaner. She held her knees to her chest and hugged herself when no one else did here. She was abused here.

She knows this house like she knows no other place on earth. She knows that dent in the wall, that crack in the window, that vase on the table. She knows that there are two nails holding up that picture in the living room. She knows where the hammer hangs in the garage. She knows the old elm tree in the backyard that she used to climb before she got too heavy.

She remembers the days she sat where her brother sits now, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin propped on her knees, and stared out the window as it rained. She remembers the times she wished to be somewhere else, somewhere warm and sunny. Somewhere everyone was happy and there was no fighting, no yelling, no hitting, no pain. Somewhere she belonged. She remembers the days she watched the street, wondering what it would feel like to run away, to run down that street and not be followed. What it would feel like not to look back. Even more, wondering what it'd feel like not to care.

She owns a lot more books than clothes. She settles the final book on top and closes her trunk. She sits on the bed, her feet on top of the sturdy, secondhand piece of luggage and opens her arms to her brother and sister. Thom scoots next to her, putting an arm around her waist in a hug and allowing Alex to clamber onto her lap. She wraps one arm around each of them.

"I love you both so much," she says softly but fiercely. "There's nothing on this earth more precious to me than you. But as much as I love you, I'm not happy in this house. I'm not happy so long as Mum and Dad aren't, because Mum and Dad don't like what I can do. And they act on that. But I am a witch. It's part of who I am, and I can't hide from that. I'm going to figure out what I'm really doing here. And I'm going to do whatever I need to, to find that out. I need to know why I'm here on the earth."

"But do you have to go?" Thom queries plaintively.

She tightens her hold on her siblings and bows her head to hide the tears glittering in her eyes. She knows she has to do this. Why is doing the right thing so hard?

"I don't know where I'm headed, Thommy-me-lad. As long as I'm not settled, I want you two to be somewhere safe. You're safe here." She smiles sadly. "You are, but I'm not. That's why I have to go."

"But don't leave us, Mya, we need you!"

Her eyes are shining with the tears she refuses to let fall.

"Thom…"

She presses her cheek to the side of his head and kisses Alex's hair. "I'll be back for a visit as soon as I can. Be on the lookout for anything from me. I'll be in touch."

She stands, Alex on her hip and her trunk rolling behind her. She leads them out of her room, locking the door after she's out of there. She slips the key in Thom's pocket. "In case you ever need a place to think." She hugs Alex one more time and puts her down, tucking her tiny hand into Thom's. She turns around and walks away. She can't look back—she doesn't want to see them cry. If she does she'll change her mind and stay.

She's about to walk out the door when he appears in front of her.

"Where are you going?" he demands.

She sets her chin. "I'm an adult now. I'm leaving."

"Good riddance," he snorts. "You taking your freakishness with you, are you?"

She's not afraid of him any more. She has her wand in her sleeve. She can deal with him if he presses on her. "Yes," she replies evenly. "I'm taking my magic with me."

"Thank God," he murmurs. "Why are you still here then?"

"To tell you _exactly_ what I think of you, Stephen Michael Granger. I think you're a coward, a liar, a drunkard, and an idiot. You're a bigot and a rapist and a child abuser, and you should be in prison. I'm still here because I want you to know how much you're missing if you don't take any notice of your son and daughter. If you don't take care of them, there's every chance they'll end up like me." She smiles, showing too many teeth. "That's why I'm still here. Now that's finished, though, so—"

He slaps her. Hard. Her head snaps to the side. But she doesn't even bat an eye. "You filthy, freakish whore! Who do you think you are, to preach to me about my family?"

"I am the daughter you neglected, the girl you raped, the child you abused. I am the first-born child of your wife. I am your oldest daughter. I am the witch you scorned. I am the woman who just gave you a free shot you won't get again. I am the adult that's leaving that door and out of your life. But if you want to insult me, I can risk my squeaky-clean record." Her wand is leveled at his chest. "Two words, that's all it takes."

He steps to the side.

She opens the door. "You can tell your wife that I despise her, and that she better do right by Thom and Alex, or she'll see just how far I can take my dislike for her."

She steps out the door and closes it behind her, feeling freer than she's ever felt in her life. She laughs out of pure exhilaration as she walks down the street. So this is how it feels.

BREAK

**About Nine Years Later**

She's sitting in the café with her glass of cold lemonade, waiting for them. They're late again—they're always late!

Finally they breeze through the door. He's so much taller now. He's still slender and not very muscular. She's following him, hiding behind him really. He slides into a seat next to her in the booth. Alex slips in across from her. She's wearing Thom's old baseball cap pulled low over her face and a pair of sunglasses. Hermione's lips tighten as she hugs her brother and squeezes her sister's hand. She's already set up the right precautions. She settles into her seat.

"You both know I help out the Deputy Headmistress, right?" They nod, slowly. "Well, I was writing up acceptance letters yesterday when guess what I found?" Neither offers an answer. Hermione smiles lopsidedly. She pulls an envelope from her coat and puts it in front of Alex. The girl takes off her sunglasses. "Congratulations, Miss Granger," she says in a bittersweet tone of voice. "You're a witch."

Alex's head jerks up at once, then just as quickly falls back down. Hermione's hand shoots out and knocks off her sister's cap, revealing a magnificent black eye. She shakes her head and swears explosively. Thom puts a placating hand on her shoulder. "Mya…"

"Don't, Thom. You knew, you understood, but you never said anything?" she practically spat. Thom flinches slightly. "How could you condemn her like that?"

"He didn't," Alex speaks up. "Every time you visited, he'd tell me that you'd understand, that you wouldn't think the less of me for it. I didn't believe him. Made him promise not to tell. It's my fault. Not his."

Hermione just sits there for a few minutes, watching her sister's big brown plead with her. She finally reaches into her pocket and pulls out a stack of papers. "He's right, Al. I do. I understand, that is," she sighs. "All of it. I talked it over with Harry and we want to ask you something." She pushes the papers toward Alex.

"Would you like to be our daughter, Alexandra Louise Granger?"

Alex's whole face lights up. Hermione watches as her sister examines all the paperwork. "I want you to feel the same exhilaration as I did when you walk away from them. And Thom? You're welcome to take _your_ freedom a year early. Harry and I would love to have you as well. I brought the car." Thom smiles an apology and acceptance together.

_Nine years ago, I didn't know where leaving would take me._

_Now I know. I have a life. A husband who loves me. A brother so devoted to his sisters he'd do __**anything**__ for them. And a sister—or a daughter, now—who needs me as much as I need her._

_It pays to take risks,_ she thinks with satisfaction as Alex pulls out a pen and signs her name on the dotted line, legally transferring guardianship over to her older sister Hermione Potter on the grounds of suspected abuse. _I suppose it's true what Gandhi said._

_**You must be the change you wish to see in the world.**_

**A/N: **I love Hermione. You know this. That is why I wrote this thing. Plot bunny, happened late at night. Is not really a songfic but certain parts were inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song so I'm giving it credit.

Hope you liked it!

Much love,

LysPotter xox

PLEASE REVIEW!


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